Little Corner
by Doctor Strangelove
Summary: In the Five Years Gone universe, where everyone thinks that Ted is long deceased, Matt works on keeping him hidden from the world. Slash [MattTed]


"Little Corner"

* * *

The Zodiac Arms apartment complex was over an hour and a half drive outside of New York City. It was the type of place one could hide away from the world in. You had to take a series of complicated back roads to get there, far away from the beaten path and the many prying eyes of the world. If one was especially inclined to remain unseen it was entirely feasible to park at the Edge of the World Diner and walk a half-mile path through the woods connecting the two buildings. This was a journey that Matt Parkman had traveled many times in the last three years.

Matt slowly walked up the stairs to the sixth floor, every step laced with caution, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed. The fading glow of the setting sun helped disguise him as he reached an apartment on the sixth floor landing. After quickly swallowing the anti-radiation pill he carried in his pocket, Matt unfastened all five of the deadbolts on the door and hastily entered the dwelling. As he slammed the door behind him and refastened all the locks, the occupant of the apartment didn't even look up from the book he was reading on the couch.

The icy silence hanging in the air was nearly tangible, and Matt struggled for anything he could think of to break it. "Reading _Fahrenheit 451 _again? What is that, the ninth time?"

Ted Sprague's eyes didn't move away from the page he was fixated on. "It's been two weeks."

"I know." The halfhearted smile that Matt had been putting on fell from his face. "I just… couldn't get away."

"You've never been gone longer than five days." Ted found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. "You always managed to get away before."

"Look, I'm sorry." A defensive tone was forming in Matt's voice. "I had a lot of stuff on my plate. I was in Washington for a while."

"Oh," Ted smirked, not even attempting to read anymore, but eyes keenly focused on his book anyway, "and how is the president?"

"Better than I expected," Matt sighed.

"Glad to hear it."

"I brought you some groceries," Matt offered in a peace-offering voice.

"Fantastic. I've been out of milk for four days." Ted hissed.

Matt took in a deep breath to try and keep calm, "I also brought some other stuff. I thought I might make you dinner."

"I've already eaten." Ted whispered.

"Damnit, Ted, are you ever going to actually look at me?"

Ted slowly placed his book on his coffee table, deliberately taking his time. His head finally turned to face the doorway and he firmly fixed his eyes on Matt's. "I wasn't exactly expecting you, Parkman. I already ate tonight."

Matt gave a deliberate nod and moved to the kitchen to unpack the groceries he had brought with him. "You haven't called me that in a while."

With an exhausted sigh, Ted leaned his head back on his couch. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Yeah," Matt wearily rubbed his temples, trying to fight back the onslaught of tiredness that was washing over him, "I guess."

Another silence swept over the two men again, less frigid than the previous one but just as tangible.

"Next Tuesday is Karen's birthday," Ted finally spoke after sipping on the beer he had been drinking, "I need you to take some flowers to her grave."

Matt nodded and returned to the main room of Ted's cramped apartment. "Dragons mouth orchids. I know."

"Did you remember that, or did you just rip it out of my head?" Ted snarled.

Matt tried to hide the hurt he felt at Ted's scorn and sat down on the couch next to the bearded man, "I remembered."

Ted's visage softened slightly, "Don't forget."

"I won't." Matt smiled a little, grateful that tension seemed to have left the room. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small paperbound book. "I got that copy of _Firestarter_ you asked for."

"Thanks." Ted gingerly tossed the novel onto a pile in the corner than was composed of nearly one hundred worn and weary books. "I'll get to it when I finish _Fahrenheit_."

"Been doing a lot of reading?"

Ted raised an annoyed eyebrow in response. "Not a lot else to do besides read. And listen to music. I need a new copy of _Quadrophenia_, by the way. Mine's scratched up, won't play anymore."

"I'll make a mental note of it. Anything else?"

"How do you feel about dogs?"

Matt gave a small smile at the non sequitur, "I like dogs."

Ted nodded, "Me too. I always wanted one, but Karen was allergic and then… Anyway, I was thinking of getting one. Maybe a golden retriever, or one of those big ones. Give me someone to talk to beside myself. Spend my time playing with him."

Matt could feel Ted's hopeful eyes on him, and he swallowed before giving the answer he knew Ted was expecting, "The dog probably wouldn't like being cramped up in the apartment. How would you walk him or let him outside?"

"Yeah," Ted whispered, taking another swig of his drink, "you're probably right."

The sound of cawing outside began to penetrate the silence, and Matt got up to close the apartment's only window, "Do you mind if I get a beer?"

Ted shook his head while absentmindedly fingering the spine of his novel. When he had first moved into his secluded apartment three years ago Matt had visited him everyday. Now Ted was lucky if he got to see him twice a week, and every time it was getting harder and harder to make conversation. It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to pass hours at a time without speaking, and it was usually a pleasant, comfortable quiet. But today, well, forced small talk seemed far more appealing to Ted than being left alone with his thoughts. "Anything else going on at work?"

"There was another terrorist attack last week. Los Angeles this time." Matt called from the kitchen.

"Peter Petrelli?"

Matt returned to his seat next to Ted. "Is it ever anyone else?"

"Nope," Ted growled. Peter Petrelli was not his favorite subject to discuss. "I guess blowing up New York and getting the world to blame it on an innocent man wasn't enough for him."

Ted rubbed his temples, fighting back a headache and hesitant to enter into a conversation he'd had many times before. "People blame Sylar, Ted. Not you."

"But where did Sylar gets his amazing exploding ability?" Ted asked, getting worked up. "Oh, that's right, the dangerous fugitive. At least he took him out before he nuked the city."

"You're glowing, Ted."

"Damnit, Parkman!" Ted threw his beer against the wall, spraying his musty pile of books as the bottle shattered. "Don't sit there patronizing me and treating me as if I don't have the right to be goddamn pissed off!"

"You do," Matt was trying desperately to keep his calm and not resort to yelling back at Ted, "but your right to be mad does not extend to blowing me up."

A grunt of frustration escaped from Ted's throat and he punched the wall, burnt plaster and ashes being left behind. With one deep breath the glow slowly faded from his hands. "I suppose I shouldn't be so upset. It's really just easier for everyone to lay the blame on two dead men. Although between the two of us, I think Sylar got the better end of the deal." Ted sneered with a dark smile on his face. "Anyone else picked up on that fact yet?"

"Besides me and the Haitian?" Matt asked, beginning to regret picking this night to visit Ted, "I think Dr. Suresh suspects something. I don't see how he couldn't. But I think he's pretty happy living in his denial. Aside from him? Heidi doesn't even know anything. I think if people haven't realized after this long, they're never going to. Which is probably for the best. I don't think Nathan Petrelli had it in him to be the leader we need right now."

"You really think Sylar is such a great president?" Ted scoffed.

Matt gave a little shrug of his shoulders, "I voted for him, didn't I?" Matt looked Ted in the eyes and offered a peaceful smile, desperate to stop fighting. Ted gave him no response beyond a bitter scowl, so Matt sighed and moved to pick up the broken glass.

"Leave it," Ted stopped him, "I'll get it later."

"Okay," Matt said in a soft voice, unsure of how he should proceed.

Ted ran a hand through his hair and wandered to his window, looking out at the setting sun. "Has Bennet heard anything from Janice lately?"

Matt was taken aback by the question and struggled to find the words to answer it. "No. Not in a month or so." Matt waited a minute for a follow up question or response but none came, so he sat back down on the couch waiting for Ted to speak.

"Look, it's late and I'm sure you've got stuff you need to do," Ted's gaze had traveled to his wall, staring curiously at the burn he had left there. "You don't have to hang around if you don't want to."

Matt paused, fighting back the rush of emotions to speak in a normal manner. "Actually, I don't have to work tomorrow. I thought I might spend the night."

Ted slowly turned his head from the wall, his face somber and hallow. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'd rather sleep alone tonight."

His patience finally at an end, Matt let out an exasperated sigh, "I am not the bad guy here, Ted. I'm sorry for how things are for you, but that's just the way they have to be. I love you, and I am doing the best I can." Ted just looked at Matt briefly before turning his attention back to the scorch marks he'd left in the wall. "Whatever. Bye."

Matt began to unlock the door to the apartment when Ted spoke up. "You have been up and down those stairs outside eight hundred and twenty-five times." He said without looking away from the wall. "Soon to be eight hundred and twenty-six. I have been up them _once_." Ted looked up from the burns he had left and faced the man across the room from him. "I know you're trying, Matt, but it's hard not to be bitter."

Matt gave a small nod of understanding, "Maybe you should get a dog. A golden retriever. He could stay at my house, and I could bring him over when I come. I'd probably have to come over a little more than I do now. For the dog."

"If he's living at your place, would he really be mine?"

"Just as much as I am."

For the first time that night, Ted felt a genuine smile creep across his face. "Yeah, I think a dog would do me some good."

Matt smiled, suddenly very happy that he had made the trip to see Ted. "We can talk about it tomorrow when I come over to make you dinner."

"Lunch?"

"Okay," Matt grinned, "I think I can make it over for lunch instead. You're making dinner then."

"As long as you like burnt chicken, I have no problem with that." Ted crossed the room and gave Matt one small gentle kiss as he opened the door to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Ted." As Matt closed the apartment door and journeyed down the stairs outside for the eight hundred and twenty-sixth time, he smiled to himself and eagerly anticipated the eight hundred and twenty-seventh.


End file.
